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#98. The worst movie I ever paid to see was ‘Nothing But Trouble’.

So, let me set it up the scenario. My wife — then girlfriend of about a year — and I went toodling off for a nice Saturday afternoon matinee. (Yes, I know that the term ‘toodling‘ and ‘matinee‘ in the same sentence makes you think that we’re out doing the nasty somewhere. But, no, we were just seeing a movie. I’m just trying to get your attention.)

Anyway, I remember that we had a movie picked out, but now I can’t recall what it was. Which is no surprise. Sometimes I can’t remember what my friggin’ name was twelve years ago. And anyway, the horror that ensued later that day has wiped out any memories I had for a month on either side. It was just that bad.

So, as usual, I was late getting us to the theater. Or read the listings in the paper wrong, and thought a ‘:15’ was a ‘:45’, or a seven was a one, or something. Or I dumped spaghetti on my head at dinner, and took too long cleaning it off. It’s always something with me. In any case, we missed the start of our movie by fifteen minutes or so. Bummer. So, we checked out the other movies playing — there were a couple that we’d heard of, but nothing really enticing. And then we saw the poster for ‘Nothing But Trouble‘. Hmmmmmm. (That was us; we said, ‘Hmmmmm.’ Just like that. ‘Hmmmmm.’ Groundbreaking, isn’t it?)

So, let’s see… who do we have in this movie? (This is still us, back then. Just imagine us, thinking and talking the next few lines, okay? I’m a little strapped for cash right now, so I don’t want to go through the extra expense of all the quotes and italics I’d normally use for this. Just work with me, here, all right? Good. Okay, I’ll start over. Remember, this is us, back then. We’re looking at the poster. Okay, good. Here we go.)

Her: Yeah, right. Michael Caine. You’d watch a Senate hearing if you thought there were gonna be tits.

Me: No, I — um, okay, you’re probably right. Anyway, Demi didn’t show a lot in that movie. I guess she’ll never be famous for flopping her hooters around, with little bitty honkers like that.

Her: Yeah, whatever.

Okay, honestly, we didn’t have this conversation. I made it up. But if we had, that’s exactly how it would have gone. I’m certain of it.)

Hey, now we’re continuing to look at the poster. There seems to be one more person on it. (That’s what we said, all right. Boy, this stuff is gold.) Well, look at that! It’s Chevy Chase! Wow, he’s awesome! Look at all of these stars! This movie must be spectacular. Let’s go buy our matinee-priced adult fare movie passes right now!

Okay, that’s enough flashback crap. Apparently, we talked like a couple of idiots back then. Maybe we were having a bad day. Anyway, I shelled out fourteen bucks for two tickets, and we went in to see it.

I’m not gonna go into the details of the film, folks. For one thing, I don’t want to relive the horrifying details. I’ll simply tell you this about the characters. Chevy plays a straight man. (Comedically speaking, that is. Sexually, just about everybody in the movie appears to be straight. Oh, no, wait — Taylor Negron is in there for a while. It seems I spoke too soon.) Anyway, Demi plays the ‘straight man’, too. Candy plays a straight man in one role, and a mute woman in another. Yeah, that’s what I’d do — I’d take two experienced and talented comedic actors and a hot chick, and give them zero funny lines. Yeah, that seems like a good idea.

Aykroyd got a better deal, of course. But he directed the damned thing, so why wouldn’t he? Oh, and his brother wrote the script. I suppose the Aykroyds believe in ‘If you can’t keep it in your pants, keep it in the family‘. ‘It’ being crap, that is. Nonsensical, hackneyed crap. Anyway, Danny boy got to dress up as a demented old guy, as well as this… um, actually, I don’t know what the fuck he was supposed to be. Some half-assed, diapered freak of nature spawned from god-knows-where… ooh, I get dizzy just thinking about it. Damn, this was a bad movie.

Anyway, we sat through it. I don’t know how, but we managed. And we walked out of the theater with deer-in-headlights, what-the-fuck-did-we-just-witness expressions on our faces, and we got in our car, and we said:

‘What the fuck did we just witness?‘

And we drove away, and have never spoken of it again. And now I wish I’d never brought it up. I feel all dirty. That’s it — this post is over. I’m gonna go take a shower. Yuck.